


home (is more than just a place)

by onlyone_cannoli



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Wayhaught - Freeform, anyway talk to me about nicole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyone_cannoli/pseuds/onlyone_cannoli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>takes place directly after The Barn Scene™️ (god bless) in 1x12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	home (is more than just a place)

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr and be my friend - onlyone-cannoli

Nicole stalks out of the barn, swinging the door shut behind her with a little more force than necessary. She breathes in a deep lungful of cold air, trying to collect herself; her skin is still tingling over the spaces where Waverly’s hands have just been, intermingled with the itch of anger crawling up her arms. She feels very inclined to barge back inside and give Willa a piece of her mind, but she knows it’s not her place and it’s a delicate enough situation as it is.

She heaves a sigh and shakes her head. Deliberately ignoring the bullet-ridden debris that’s still scattered around her feet from the most recent Earp Situation, she reluctantly makes her way back to her car. As she pulls away from the Homestead, she catches a glimpse of Waverly in the rearview mirror, bursting out of the barn and making a beeline for the house.

Nicole tightens her grip on the steering wheel, resisting the urge to turn around. She doesn’t pretend to understand what’s going on with the Earps - or almost anything else in Purgatory, really - but the newest Earp is the strangest of all. And she’s been trying to keep an open mind, of course, for Waverly’s sake, but there’s just something  _off_  about Willa that Nicole can’t shake. All she knows is that Waverly always seems to be a little on edge around her, despite the cheerful face she puts on, and Nicole hates seeing her like that.

A bit of her anger melts away as she thinks of Waverly’s shy, sweet smile, and some of the residual sparks from their earlier encounter reignite across Nicole’s skin. She rolls down the windows, hoping the winter chill will calm her pounding heart, but the restlessness still eats away at her bones. So instead of going home, she heads into town.

Nicole’s days off (when she’s not spending them with Waverly) usually consist of running errands and catching up on day-to-day things she’s been neglecting, but the thought of going grocery shopping or calling Marla the plumber about her leaky faucet just seems too mundane at the moment. Her stomach grumbles as she passes Shorty’s - she’d been planning on taking Waverly to lunch - so she stops by the diner to pick up a sandwich and soon finds herself pulling into the parking lot of the police station.

Sheriff Nedley is sitting at the front desk when she walks in, logging what looks like a Stolen Property claims form.

“Be with you in a second,” he says, glancing up briefly, then quickly looks up again; he still seems to do a double take every time he sees her out of uniform. “Haught? What are you doing here, isn’t it your day off?”

“Yes, sir, it is,” Nicole says, and without her utility belt to grab onto, she shoves her free hand deep into her pocket. “But I know we’re backlogged on those reports about the vandalized lawn ornaments, so I thought I’d, uh…just get a head start on ‘em.”

Nedley squints at her suspiciously for a moment, then shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says. “But don’t you think you’ll be gettin’ overtime for this.”

“‘Course not, Sheriff,” Nicole says with a nod, and Nedley returns to his work with a grunt.

The only other officer on duty is Gallagher, who’s diligent and friendly enough but so placid that Nicole reckons nothing short of a nuclear bomb will galvanize him. They nod to each other in greeting as she sidles past him toward her desk, where a large pile of folders is stacked neatly in her to-do box. She carries the stack to an empty office, just down the hall from Black Badge Division headquarters, and plops everything down with a sigh.

Nicole munches through her sandwich as she flips through the stack of reports. They’d been getting multiple calls recently with complaints of a “mysterious force” messing with the lawn decor of some of Purgatory’s older inhabitants - residents had been waking up to find their garden gnomes and flamingos rearranged in various compromising and lewd positions. The victims’ statements are filled with words like  _witchcraft_  and  _voodoo_  and  _malicious hullabaloo_  - that one had made Nicole laugh - but everyone else knows it’s probably just a bunch of teenagers trying to wreak some havoc in the middle of the night.

Nicole is amused more than anything else as she sifts through the files, but she quickly loses focus as her mind wanders to other things - namely, the black folder at the bottom of her stack. The one concerning the shooting - or Earp Situation #9, as Nicole refers to it in her head.

Deputy Marshall Dolls had redacted the majority of what had already been a deplorably scant amount of information, leaving Nicole with only her imagination to fill in the blanks. She still remembers getting the call - _shots fired at the Earp Homestead, I repeat, shots fired, requesting backup_ \- and the jolt of cold, paralyzing fear that had struck her, filling her mouth with the bitter taste of dread, something quite unlike anything she’d experienced before and would gladly never experience again.

And Nicole is frustrated and angry and  _scared_ , because her girlfriend had been  _shot_ , for Pete’s sake, and she still has no idea why. She knows Wynonna will never talk (whether it’s by choice or under threat of death from the Deputy Marshall, she’s not sure) but Waverly seems to go through phases, where one moment she’s flippantly dismissing everything, then looking like she’ll burst from all her secrets in the next.

And Nicole’s not stupid, of course - she knows there  _are_  secrets, that there’s  _definitely_  something going on in Purgatory that has everything to do with the Earps, no matter what Nedley says about it just being  _your run of the mill, small town hocus pocus._  But Nicole is hesitant to push the matter with Waverly, so she doesn’t. Waverly will tell her when she’s ready. She always does.

Nicole is startled out of her thoughts by the sound of the office door creaking open, and she looks up to see Nedley standing in the doorway.

“Out with you, it’s gettin’ late,” he says gruffly, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Or else I’ll assign you desk duty the rest of the week, since you seem to like paperwork so much.”

 _That_  gets Nicole moving, and she hastily gathers up the files. She might love nearly everything about being a cop, but paperwork sure isn’t one of them.

It’s nearly dark when she steps out of the station. She checks her phone, but her only messages are from her brother, Jesse. She briefly considers going for a drive to clear her head, but her stomach is grumbling again so she finally decides to head home. She heats up some leftovers for dinner, most of which she lets Leia steal off her plate, and Skypes Jesse (he’s just arrived in London, where his band had just landed a three-night gig at some swanky new club) before she takes a cursory shower and settles down on the living room couch, resigning herself to an early night.

She’s just starting to doze off, Leia purring away on her lap and an old rerun of  _Friends_  lulling her to sleep, when there’s a sudden knock on her door.

Nicole’s eyes jerk open and Leia jumps off with a surprised yowl, scurrying away. Nicole flips the TV off and glances at her watch - quarter past ten, too late for unannounced visitors - and slowly reaches a hand out toward her gun on the end table, listening intently.

It’s quiet for the next couple seconds, and Nicole wonders if she’s imagining things. She starts to sit back again when there’s a second knock, more insistent this time.

She grabs the gun and stands up, disengaging the safety as she slowly approaches the door, alertness and adrenaline sparking through her veins like electricity. Not that she’d really expect an intruder to knock first, but there’s no such thing as being too careful. It is Purgatory, after all.

She stops a foot away from the door, gun held at the ready. “Hello?” she says cautiously.

“Nicole?” Waverly’s voice replies through the door. “It’s me.”

Nicole nearly drops her gun. Cursing inwardly, she clicks the safety back on, sets the gun down on a nearby table, and pulls the door open to reveal Waverly Earp standing in front of her, tightly bundled in her puffy purple winter coat and fuzzy boots, her face half-buried in multiple layers of scarves.

Nicole’s first instinct is to pull her inside and grab her in a hug - maybe pick her up and carry her inside, even - but she holds herself back, because there’s a tenseness in the way Waverly is holding herself, a strange stiffness to her small frame that’s visible despite all her layers.

So Nicole settles for a gentle, “Hey,” and steps back so Waverly can come inside. She does so, but stops after a few steps, just far enough so that Nicole can close the door.

She turns around, untucking her chin from her scarves. “Hey,” she says back, but it’s stiff and short, like she’s on edge, teetering on the brink of some precipice that only she can see.

But Nicole knows that Waverly has spent most of her life falling. Everything in Purgatory seems to have knocked her down at one point or another, but Waverly’s always been able to pick herself back up, and all the scuffed knees and emotional bruises have only made her tougher, made her into the feisty, compassionate, and brave woman that Nicole is already hopelessly in love with.

And so Nicole just stands there, holding very, very still, lest she miss something - the subtlest sign that maybe this time, Waverly just wants to be caught - and waits for her to make the first move.

After what seems like just short of eternity, Waverly lets out a long sigh.

“I’m tired,” she says, and her hands tremble even though her voice doesn’t.

“I know,” Nicole says gently. Her hands itch with the urge to hold her girlfriend, but Waverly’s arms are folded across her chest, like she’s still walling herself off.

Nicole wonders if this is what it feels like to wait for the apocalypse.

Another sigh. Then: “I’m a terrible person.”

 _No, you’re not!_  is on the tip of Nicole’s tongue. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from blurting it out.

“I love Willa, I really do,” Waverly continues, still staring at the floor with her arms crossed, talking almost to herself. “I mean, she’s my  _sister_ , so of course I’m really glad that she’s alive and not - you know. But it’s - it’s like she came back from the dead - and she kind of  _did_ , I guess - but no one else seems to think it’s weird, and Gus and Wynonna just keep looking at her like she’s some kind of - of miracle ghost. And I was only six when she died -  _thought_  she died, and Wynonna, she’s six years older than me, which makes Willa almost ten, and obviously I don’t remember that much but they were always so close, like it was just the two of them and I was always just tagging along and always in the way.”

The words come spilling out in a rush, slightly frantic and more pressured than Waverly’s usual whirlwind rambling, and she plows on before Nicole can even think about interjecting.

“And Daddy, he - I mean I know there was a lot of - of  _stuff_  going on, but sometimes it felt like he just  _forgot_  I was there, that I even existed, and he always got Willa all these presents on her birthday, and when I turned six only Wynonna remembered - and, I mean, I  _get it_ , Willa’s been through some horrible, horrible things, and Wynonna too, except Wynonna just kinda checked out after Willa was taken and Daddy died. And I know Wynonna didn’t come back for  _me_ , you know, but when she did it almost started to feel  _right_  again. But now Willa’s back, too, and they have each other again and even though it’s only been a couple days it’s like they just  _understand_  each other, like they have something I don’t, and I just - so many  _things_  keep happening and I just got freaking  _shot_  and it still hurts and I’m  _tired_ , okay? I’m scared and I don’t like Willa and I’m just  _tired_.”

Waverly is shaking now, gulping for air a little and furiously blinking away the tears threatening to leak from her eyes, and Nicole decides that the time for waiting is definitely over. But Waverly beats her to it; she steps forward, flinging her arms around Nicole’s waist and pressing herself into Nicole’s body so abruptly that Nicole rocks back on her heels.

She’s a little taken aback by the suddenness of it all, but it’s something she’s getting used to.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she says softly, wrapping her arms around Waverly’s trembling frame, and Waverly ducks her head just under Nicole’s chin. “You’ve been through a lot and it’s definitely some overwhelming stuff, and it’s okay to feel like this. It doesn’t make you a terrible person. It just makes you human.”

Waverly sighs, pressing a little deeper into Nicole’s embrace. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles from somewhere near Nicole’s ribs. “I know it’s late, I should’ve called. I just - I just wanted to feel safe.”

Nicole feels her heart swell up and melt all at the same time, expanding in her chest with the knowledge that the safest place Waverly Earp could think of when she was scared was  _here_ , in Nicole’s arms.

“It’s okay, baby,” Nicole murmurs into Waverly’s hair, hugging her a little tighter. “You’re safe with me.”

“I know,” Waverly replies, and Nicole is vaguely afraid that she might burst right then and there into a puddle of joy and giddiness that is entirely inappropriate for the situation.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she says instead. “Let’s sit down.”

She gently steers Waverly toward the couch and she obligingly follows, never relinquishing her tight grip around Nicole’s waist, and they half-sit, half-fall into its soft depths. Waverly wiggles around for a moment until she’s all but curled up in Nicole’s lap, and Nicole adjusts her arm so that Waverly can tuck her face into the crook of Nicole’s neck. Nicole lets out a long sigh, relaxing into the weight and warmth of Waverly half on top of her. 

They stay like that for a moment before Nicole whispers, “August 11th.”

“Hmm?” Waverly mumbles into Nicole’s neck.

“August 11th,” she repeats. “Your birthday.”

Waverly picks her head up at that, and stares at her. “How…did you know that?” she asks slowly.

“I’m a cop,” she says, shrugging. “It’s my business to know things.”

Waverly tilts her head at her, a smile playing on her lips. “You looked it up in the police database.”

“I looked it up in the police database,” Nicole concedes, and Waverly giggles a little, so Nicole decides she can forgive herself that minor infraction of misusing police resources. “I had to know. For planning purposes.” She flashes a grin. “’Cause I can be a planner, too. Especially for birthdays, ideally two or three months in advance.”

The reference to their first encounter earns Nicole another embarrassed giggle from Waverly. “Thank you,” she says, and she cups her hand around Nicole’s one cheek and places a kiss on the other, sending a shiver down Nicole’s spine. She lets her head rest on Nicole’s shoulder again and softly asks, “Can I stay here tonight?”

Nicole catches Waverly’s hand and intertwines their fingers, bringing them up to her lips to press gentle kisses over Waverly’s knuckles. “Of course. Do you want the bed?”

Waverly shakes her head into Nicole’s neck. “Can we just…stay here?”

“Anything you want, baby,” Nicole says softly. She pulls off the quilt that’s hanging over the back of the couch and drapes it over them both, tucking the ends in around Waverly’s legs and under her chin, then reaches over and switches the light off. It isn’t long before Leia reemerges from Nicole’s room to join them, leaping gracefully up onto the arm of the couch and curling her tail up against Nicole’s arm.

Nicole feels a smile spreading across her face, and she lets out a sigh of contentment. She knows that she’s a fairly hopeless romantic, and even though she may not believe in soulmates, she’s always liked the idea that love isn’t necessarily something you find, but more like something you recognize - the same way that home is more than just a place. And as she gently presses another kiss to the top of Waverly’s head, holding her closer as the darkness and warmth settle in like a blanket around them, Nicole can’t help but think that no matter what sort of hell is raging on in Purgatory, this sure is starting to feel like home.


End file.
